


Bare

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Blood+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by NotusLethe</p><p>While staying in Romania, Saya begins to uncover truths about herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bare

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lintwhite

 

 

The edges of the window were stained the deep rusty color of something familiar, something she couldn't quite place. Saya's hands looked too pale against the wood, thin from too much worrying, spindly like the spiders living in the corners of her room. Curtains had been hastily strew across the top, though they had lived as someone's tattered shirt for much longer.

Not many people wandered the streets below her third-story window. Saya mostly thought this was due to the darkening sky, the cold settling down in a blanket. She curled her arms around her body. Although the town was empty, Haji had warned against her venturing outside. He'd ensured that their small one-room place was warm to combat the temptation of the chilly outside.

She didn't - she wouldn't - make it into his fault. Or blame him. Saya inched back from the window and pulled the rags closed; she could see better in the dim light anyway.

He'd saved her, hadn't he? When everything had started to fall down around them, when she didn't know what to do anymore, when Riku had... when Diva...

Tears left hot trails down her cheeks, and Saya wiped at them absently. There'd been so many tears since the boat explosion, so many, she couldn't muster enough to truly care. Instead, she scrubbed at her face until they stopped, leaving the cuffs of her gray sweater black.

When Haji came back, she'd have to convince him to let her go out. The small studio grew smaller every day, shrinking in proportion to the mounting tension in her body. She paced, feet scuffling, shuffling, dragging across the creaking floorboards. Maybe she could get a puzzle or a journal or something - anything- to keep her entertained, to prevent her from thinking.

The kitchen was pushed away from the main part of the room, half-pieces of wall pretending to section it off. Haji didn't want to buy a lot of food, didn't want to give them any sort of permanence, but he'd had to change his mind when the food he brought back from his many outings had only lasted one meal. Saya hadn't eaten the first week they traveled; she'd needed so much blood. Her appetite was almost back to full strength, though, and Haji kept her well-supplied with noodles, the only food he seemed to think her fit to cook.

Saya grabbed the only pot they had, a heavy iron thing, and filled it with water, setting it to boil. They kept boiled water in a jug for drinking, but it tasted funny to Saya, and she rather didn't drink it. Haji warned her about the water on the first day, his quiet whispers more urgent than she knew of him.

If she had music, or if it was several months ago, she might've swayed back and forth, moving her hips in an arc to the rhythm. But she found she couldn't quite make herself hum, couldn't quite get herself to close her eyes and let a song fill her head instead of the huge shattering of her younger brother.

She sucked in a huge breath, pressed her palms into her eyes, pressed until the black gave way to blue to white. It'd been a month, at least, and she was depressing herself, which she figured to be a never-ending cycle. Saya stepped up to her boiling water, added a pack of noodles, and began to stir. While she worked, she forced herself to hum, a song from some American band one of her friends from the Vietnamese school loved.

"She's got a something that seems to me, reminds me of childish memories, where something, something," she sang. Saya gave up after a second, humming instead of trying to mutilate the lyrics anymore. She found she could bob her head a bit, sway her hips, and nothing ended, no worlds came crashing down around her feet.

The noodles cooked faster than she hoped, and Saya finished preparing them, a bit disappointed that her entertainment was over so fast. She was definitely going to have to ask Haji for a book, or something. Or maybe she could even go with him next time. Going out in daylight wouldn't hurt anyone, especially if Haji was there with her.

She set down the bowl, turning around to get the only pair of chopsticks in the room. Haji stood, silently watching her.

"Oh!" She jumped, almost lost her balance, and she could see the minute twitch in his body, his readiness to catch her, should she fall. "You should've said something when you came in."

He inclined his head, but said nothing, as usual. Saya ran her tongue over her teeth, awkwardness cowing her shoulders, making her turn back to her noodles. He didn't seem to have anything; he usually brought back something from his days out in the town. She strolled right past him, plopping on the ground and leaning against the wall. His feet made no noise as he stopped right next to her.

"What did you do today?" Haji reached into his pockets, produced some colorful paper, which Saya knew to be lei, only worth about a third of the Japanese yen. He had told her that morsel of information when they first arrived in Romania. She nodded, took a large bite of noodles.

"Please sit," she said, gesturing to the lone metal chair. "You're making me nervous, standing like that."

He did sit, gracefully lifting his coattails out of the way, and averted his gaze. He might as well have been looking at her, because she could feel it nonetheless. Saya resisted the urge to drum her fingers against her leg, holding her bowl with both hands.

"Did you see anything interesting today?" Surprise flickered across his face, and Saya wondered how annoyed her small talk made him. Well, he could just learn to deal with it, especially if he thought she'd be okay hiding in this tiny studio.

"I saw little that was different from yesterday," he said, voice quiet and rhythmic. He spoke as though he were still playing the cello.

She'd run out of noodles, and the murky brown broth did not look as appealing as she once thought it. Saya wished instead it could be sukiyaki or chanpuru. She'd kill for some chanpuru. When she glanced back up at Haji, she could almost see the amusement across his face, though it hadn't changed.

She peered into her near-empty bowl. "Needs wakame."

A soft rustling sound, the slide of fabric, and Haji had recovered his cello, propped the case against the chair. During her short time in Okinawa, Saya hadn't much experience with classical music or playing instruments or, really, anything like that. Glimmers of her past swam through her mind, making her believe that she might be able to appreciate Haji's music on a level different than 'oh that's pretty.'

Saya came back from the kitchen, and Haji stood next to the chair, holding out his cello and bow to her. Frozen, she couldn't think of a single word to say to him. A shiver wriggled down her spine; sometimes, she believed he could read her mind.

"I couldn't. I don't remember enough - and I'm still not as good as you." But she sat anyway. Part of her had wanted to touch the cello for a long while, spread her fingers along the polished wood. Saya gently plucked the bow from his hands, set the cello between her legs, knowing how to place it without thinking.

She could play a few notes, just from that fuzzy memory in the back of her mind. Somewhere back there, a tune lingered, but Saya didn't think she could muster up one just yet.

"I can't do any more than that." She half-smiled, offering the bow back to him. As he took it back, she saw his hand still wrapped in bandages. The sight shouldn't surprise her, since he never took it off, but a little sadness sprouted inside her. No. She shouldn't feel sad, shouldn't let those heavy feelings take her over. "You were always better than me."

"You taught me-"

"Haji, I need to go outside." The words popped out of her mouth; she hadn't even realized. "I can't stay in here anymore."

He'd been preparing to play, bow outstretched, long fingers poised over strings. The more time they spent wandering the planet, the more Saya could read the slight differences in his expressions. That wrinkle between his eyebrows might as well have been astonishment. He let his bow droop, then brought it back up, sang a note across the strings.

"Of course." And he played, something melancholy and devastating. Saya was moved - it was impossible not to be- but for a moment, she wondered if he ever felt anything like happiness.

Boredom settled her into an early sleep and she woke even earlier. Fuzziness pervaded her mind, but she was warm. Warmer than the Romanian nights had promised and even as Saya squirmed closer, a sense of strangeness tickled her mind.

Hands, one warm and the other a soft swath of bandage, stroked her hair, held her close. Her teeth were already bared, determined, and she bit his throat, the hot rush of blood against her lips. Saya gulped greedily, her hands pressing against his shoulders, then her hands in his, straining, until she had enough blood to wake up.

Saya jerked away, quickly wiped her mouth, bright crimson against the gray sweater. She sucked in deep breaths, scooting away from Haji.

"Don't do that to me."

"Forgive me. You needed blood."

Saya changed her clothes, washing her face in the kitchen sink. When they went out, she would find something to entertain her, something to make her not so lonely when Haji was gone all day. She shoved her gray sweater into the small bag of laundry she had, burying it under everything she could. It was her only sweater, but she could just wear layers, right, and wouldn't need to see it until she washed everything in the sink later.

"Let's go out," she said, heading toward the door without waiting for Haji to follow her. She knew he would.

The streets flickered brighter than she would think, the bazaar flooded with people. Haji stayed close behind her; she could feel him hovering, almost pressed against her shoulder. Many of the vendors offered fruit, strange oddly-colored fruit that Saya had never seen before, or large assortment of clothes, some of the cheap American style and a lot in what seemed to be traditional Romanian. 

The majority of people seemed to be older women, haggling in their rich voices. Saya delighted most in the large variety of food. She'd never seen most of it, but the heady blend of spices made her stomach growl, rumble. Most of all, the bazaar was loud, the voices of so many people enveloping the entire area.

"Covrigi!" A merchant near her called out, raising his collection of twisted pretzels. She turned to ask, but Haji already held out the money to her. Saya laughed.

She rifled through the money, pulling out the smallest denomination and handing it to the merchant. The old man raised an eyebrow, shook his head. She shifted side-to- side, considering, then pulled out another of the same, offering the two to the merchant. The man held up five fingers, and Saya shook her head, fists on her hips. She held up two, and the merchant countered with four. At three, both of them agreed. Saya handed over three of the bills, and the merchant gave her a pretzel, calling out something to her that was obviously a blessing.

She wandered through the bazaar, picking up the clothes, running the fabrics through her fingers. One man was selling wine from a barrel he sat atop, talking animatedly with his companion. The sense of people was what she had needed the most.

Glancing back at Haji - he had to be hating the thick crowd- Saya didn't watch where she was headed. She ran into someone, so hard, she nearly fell over and certainly knocking the other person to the ground. Recovering her ground, she saw that she had ran into a small girl in pigtails.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" But the little girl had not been alone: a large man stood next to her and he promptly began shouting in Romanian. Saya shrank back. Haji smoothly stepped forward, his quiet voice a stark contrast to the other man's booming timbre. Saya backed up until she hit another booth, where she began apologizing again.

"It's alright; you didn't hurt anything." Saya turned, her mouth wide open. Someone here speaking Japanese? The man seemed in his middle twenties, smiling wide and eating something flaky off a plate.

"You are... Japanese?" He wasn't, obviously, but Saya couldn't figure out how someone in Romania could speak with her. The man laughed.

"No. I go to the university and I stayed abroad in Japan for a year." He continued to smile, and Saya felt herself smiling in response. Haji didn't enjoy talking, and she longed to speak with someone. "You are very far from Japan."

"I'm touring Europe; I'm moving around a lot." Not exactly a lie, though Saya wasn't sure what could be the truth anymore.

"I am glad you decided to visit Romania," the man said, leaning against the side of his booth.

She nodded, and they looked at each other for long moments. Saya laughed, ducked her head.

"I am Danut," he said, extending his hand. She hesitated, glanced back at Haji, who continued to soothe the giant of a man, and stuck out her own hand.

"Uh, I'm, uh, Mao." Danut laughed, a chortle that wracked his whole body, and he spread his hands.

"Of course. I was wondering, Mao, if you enjoy hirayachi. Making it is one of the few talents I brought back with me from Japan." Longing welled up inside her, crashed through her veins and Saya felt her knees grow weak. She'd barely given herself time to miss Japan, to miss her father's restaurant, to mourn the loss of everything she'd known and loved.

"I shouldn't..." Her feet rebelled, already moving her closer to Danut's booth. Danut shrugged, hands in pockets. "I have everything back in my camper, but I understand if you could not go."

Saya crossed her arms, looked back at Haji, who was speaking to the little girl now. He could find her easily, he always could. Besides, she hadn't been outside, out of his sight, in ages. She tried not to feel resentful, tried to feel grateful and safe, but instead she'd only been feeling trapped. So Saya tipped back her head, squared her shoulders, and smiled at the nice Romanian man.

"I can go."

He led her into the alleyway, which Saya hadn't noticed before. He kept up conversation, his Japanese failing at times, and he resorted to gestures. They laughed the whole time, and some part of Saya ached for Kai, and for his silliness. She rubbed her arms, hadn't noticed that the alley grew darker, grew colder.

"Danut-" Someone shoved her against a wall. Saya cried out, her head hitting the brick wall and sending sparks of pain through her sight.

Only Danut stood before her, his face blank and a white square in his hand. He came forward, fast, and Saya jerked out of the way, scrabbling at her side for the sword she hadn't brought.

He came again, moving quicker than she would've thought, grabbed her hair and yanked hard. She gasped, shoved him away. A glint of silver caught the barest hint of sunlight, and Saya felt the fear in her mind shut down. All tension drained from her limbs, left her loose and empty.

She darted forward, knocked the knife out of his hand. With movements that seemed no faster than usual, Saya caught his arm, snapped it out of place. While Danut screamed, she kicked him to the ground and sprang on top of him. She held him down by his neck, pressing until his eyes rolled back in his head.

Then, she leaned down and bit his throat, drinking his blood.

Not until Haji pulled her off, touching the sides of her face gently, did Saya snap back into herself. She breathed too hard, deep gulping breaths, trying to figure out where she had gone, who had taken over while her body had soundly beat Danut.

"Saya." Haji stroked her hair, her face, her arms, touching her more than she had ever known him too. He might as well have been sobbing, the display of worry so obvious. Saya licked her lips, tasted the blood at the edges.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." She waited, waited for tears to swell in her eyes, for fear and terror to swirl through her bones. Instead she only felt sated, content. 

She didn't feel scared or upset. All Saya could think was how unfortunate she had forgotten her sword. She wouldn't make that mistake ever again. She pushed her hair behind her ears, noted that her hands had blood all over them. Frowning, Saya wiped her hands on Danut's shirt.

"We should leave, Haji," she said, heading away from the body, head high and mind clear.

"Of course," he said, and he followed her, as he would always do. 

 


End file.
